


Boundaries of Our Fears

by magrittesque (orphan_account)



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Angst and Humor, Explicit Sexual Content, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Medical Examination, Memory Alteration, Mind Control, Mind/Mood Altering Substances, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sadism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-06
Updated: 2014-12-18
Packaged: 2018-02-28 08:58:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2726450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/magrittesque
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Let me inside, no cause for alarm<br/>I promise tonight not to do no harm<br/>I promise you, babe, I won't do no harm"</p><p>Under the influence of a mind-altering drug, Mats put his hatred for Schalke's captain into action, with dire consequences.</p><p>Mostly Mats/Benni, with minor Marco/Mario fluff.</p><p> </p><p>  <b>Warning: This work contains graphic violence, disturbing/OOC content, and possible triggers. Please read at your own risk.</b></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Trauma

**Author's Note:**

> This was incredibly draining to write. Benni deserves all the hugs in the world (I love him I really do). Possible fluff in later chapters? Anyhow, I promise it'll only go uphill from here.

Gelsenkirchen at night is not a pretty sight. The drab industrial buildings left from its days as a bustling mining centre are now shabby and dilapidated. The people of the city have a hard edge to them – curt mannerisms, steely gazes. Of course, the easiest way to fire up a Gelsenkirchener was to mention Borussia Dortmund, the archrivals of their beloved Schalke 04 in conversation, whose legendary rivalry is unparalleled among the German clubs.

Strangely enough, the captains of these teams, Mats Hummels and Benedikt Hoewedes are on almost civil terms.

At the moment, the latter is curled up in front of his fireplace, nursing a glass of mulled wine and steadily working his way through a dog-eared paperback mystery. Following the turbulent past few months at Schalke, he can relax at last, now that they’re back at a respectable sixth place in the Bundesliga.

Closing his book and leaning back in his armchair, Benni ran his fingers through the front of his hair unconsciously – a habit of sorts ever since his hair transplant, and let his mind drift to the Other Captain. He trembled involuntarily, tugging up the right sleeve of his brown mohair sweater and examining the myriad of bruises and cuts on his forearm. 

They had been clandestine lovers since their U21 days, those carefree days when Mats was still at Bayern Munich and Manu was still captaining Schalke. They kept girlfriends in public, but stole every opportunity to be with each other – during international breaks, after training sessions, vacationing in Eastern Europe, and so forth. Not a single soul knew, apart from themselves. Or so they thought. 

Somehow, Juergen Klopp discovered their illicit relations through fuzzy paparazzi photos that littered the internet. To him, the thought of his trustworthy captain having any relations with their hated rivals was a travesty. Determined to stamp out this sort of behaviour, he furtively contacted the laboratories of the most innovative pharmacies in Europe before deciding on a radical solution.

Klopp looked on with a grim sort of satisfaction as Mats lined up to receive his scheduled "flu shot" along with his Dortmund teammates. Little did the captain know, the innocuous-looking clear fluid injected into his bloodstream was a mind-altering stimulant, meticulously formulated to reprogram his feelings for Benni into fervent hatred, much like the rest of the Dortmund supporters. 

The drug took weeks to activate. Unfortunately, its full effects kicked into action during one of their frequent intimate sessions. Benni watched, terrified, as Mats’ tender brown gaze morphed into one of murderous rage. Dragging the smaller man into his own bedroom, Mats proceeded to tie his wrists to the bedposts and tear off his clothes with relish and malice splayed across his usually handsome features. 

Benni remembered the excruciating night as one of unimaginable agony and humiliation. He can barely recall the number of times he was violated, with Mats’ fingernails clawing his back and hissing into his ear “How does it feel to be fucked by the captain of the bottom Bundesliga team, Herr Schalke?” What he does remember is his throat, hoarse from screaming, as well as the barrage of merciless, rage-filled thrusts from his lover. 

When Mats grew tired from fucking ceaselessly, he produced a Swiss army knife from his pocket and proceeded to pierce Benni’s skin in various places. “This is for the Matip goal in September.” He pressed the tip of the blade between Benni’s ribs until the skin broke. “And this is for that Draxler goal last March.” He ran the blade along Benni’s right forearm until blood gushed forth, repeating the process again and again.

As the tip of the blade punctured the small of his back, Benni choked back a yelp of anguish. With difficulty, he twisted around and looked his tormentor directly in the eyes. “Mats…you’re hurting me…please, stop.” he implored, his voice wavering from pain. “What...what did I ever do to deserve this?”

In response, Mats leered at him, leaning in until their faces were merely inches apart. “What you deserve is to burn in hell, Schalker," He spat. "You and the rest of your team.” Expelling a harsh bark of laughter, he unbuckled his jeans swiftly, then thrust vigorously into his victim once more.

Throughout the ordeal, Benni's mind slipped in and out of consciousness until he blacked out from exhaustion. He woke up the next morning, sprawled nude across the carpet dotted with spots of his own blood. His wrists had been untied, and every single wound on his body was on fire. Attempting to stand up, he tottered from the searing spasms of pain between his legs, then fell unsteadily onto the bed.

During the course of one night, his gentle Mats had morphed into a sadistic brute with nothing but seething hatred and loathing for him. Curling his aching body into fetal position, Benni allowed the tears to flow unrestrained down his cheeks, until his whole body convulsed with harrowing sobs.


	2. Denial

Humming merrily to himself, Mats bobbed his head in time to the bass line from his headphones, slinging his jacket over his shoulder as he disembarked the DFB bus with his Dortmund teammates for yet another round of international matches. Although their position in the Bundesliga was still precarious, Dortmund had advanced to the next round of the Champions League with flying colours, and that alone was enough to cheer him up. 

There was just one nagging doubt on his mind clouding his joy: He can't seem to recall where he was and what he was doing three nights ago, leaving a gaping blank in his memory. It was as if those hours had slipped into another dimension of time beyond his grasp. Furthermore, Benni had not responded to his text from a day ago, and knowing Benni, he was usually the type to reply texts within ten minutes or so.

As he entered the hotel lobby with Marco, Erik, and co. in tow, he saw Manuel waving them over, along with Thomas' booming voice carrying across the cavernous space: "Ha! Here they are! Dortmund last as per usual!" 

Normally, these types of inflammatory remarks would result in a good clobbering from Mats, but knowing Thomas, his notorious jokes are all but harmless. Shaking his head to himself, Mats strode over for a round of shoulder claps and fist bumps. 

As he approached the crowd, he recognized lanky Julian Draxler, standing at the edge of the group with crossed arms and a terse expression. Beside him, predictably, was Benni, who looked gaunt and haggard, with sunken cheeks and patches of shadows beneath his normally bright hazel eyes.

Mats smiled to himself. "Benni!" He called out, grinning widely in his direction. To his surprise, Benni's head snapped up as if receiving an electric shock, looking around wildly until he caught sight of Mats. Without another word, he turned on the spot and headed brusquely towards the elevators. Before Mats could say anything, Benni had disappeared around the corner. 

His smile sliding off his face like melted butter, Mats scratched his mop of dark brown curls in bewilderment. Behind him, he heard an impatient "tut" from Marco. "What's gotten into him?" 

Trying to appear nonchalant, Mats shrugged as he reached over and flicked Marco's painstakingly touseled blond locks, and was predictably met with loud protests. 

Behind them, Julian glowered menacingly at the Dortmund captain as he picked up his bags and trailed after his own captain to the elevators.


	3. Anxiety

In his dream, Benni was bound helplessly to a stake, while a faceless mob in bright yellow carrying torches approached him to set fire to the pile of wood at his feet. As the flames leaped around him, he cried out for a blow of mercy, which was answered by a tall man with dark curly hair, cackling maniacally as he aimed a dagger at Benni's heart.

The next thing he knew, he was screaming and writhing on the hotel room floor while Julian, his hair sticking up from the back of his head, flicked on a light and dashed hastily over to his captain.

"Benni, Benni, calm down! Shh, it's just a nightmare." The younger boy bent down in the semi-darkness, gingerly patting the back of the crouching figuring rocking to and fro. Never before had his captain appeared smaller and more vulnerable. 

It took several ragged gasps of air before Benni found his voice again. When he spoke, his normally mellifluous voice came out in a hoarse whisper. "You're right, Juli, just a stupid nightmare. Sorry for waking you up so early in the morning." His eyes looked glazed and hollow in the dim bedside light. "Better squeeze in another few hours of sleep before training." He stood up unsteadily, crawled back under the covers and turned his back on Julian.

Thoroughly perplexed, Julian shuffled back to his side of the room. Before switching off the lights, he stole a worried glance at the trembling figure against the dusky indigo glow of the impending dawn.

*

The next morning, following a hearty breakfast, the team lined up in alphabetical order for their regular physical examinations. One by one, they filed into the makeshift office of Dr. Wohlfahrt to be measured, weighed, and prodded at. 

Little Mario Goetze, who was lined up immediately before Benni and Mats, bounced up and down anxiously. "What if I gained more weight?" He fretted. "They'll cut desserts from my diet again, and all there'll be left to eat are baked potatoes and sauerkraut. Oh god, no!" He buried his pudgy face in his hands, to roaring laughter from the rest of the team.

Julian emerged from the doctor's office, announcing triumphantly: "I've grown another inch and lost 3 pounds." He clapped Mario on the back. "Give all your desserts to me, then." He chortled as Mario scrunched up his face and stomped off for his examination.

Julian tried to catch Benni's eye as he passed by, but his captain was staring determinedly at the floor, leaving a large gap between himself and Mats, who was lined up behind him.

A few minutes later, Mario tumbled back out. "MAAAAAARCO!" He screeched, sounding almost tearful. "I DID gain weight! No more desserts for me!" Rushing over near the end of the line, he buried his face in Marco's arm and let out a muffled wail, while Thomas, Manuel and Lukas doubled up in mirth around them.

"Benedikt Hoewedes!" Startled from his reverie, Benni strode briskly towards the doctor's office, his hands deep in the pockets of his track suit. 

Dr. Wohlfahrt greeted Benni with a nod, gesturing for him to remove his jacket. "You look a bit peaky. Didn't sleep well last night?"

Shrugging and mumbling an incoherent response, Benni took off his jacket and stepped onto the scales.

Leaning over, the doctor examined the numbers critically and scribbled on his notepad. "You've lost 7 pounds, Benni. Have you been ill or stressed out over the last while?"

"No - not particularly." Benni did not meet the doctor's eyes. 

Frowning, the doctor lifted the stethoscope around his neck to his ears. "We'll have a look at your heart rate, in any case." 

Benni closed his eyes nervously as he rolled his t-shirt upwards . He had locked himself in the bathroom for a good half an hour this morning, applying some sort of drugstore concealer onto the half-healed bruises and wounds scattered across his limbs and torso. The sensation of the cold tip of the stethoscope against his heart made him jump slightly. 

A moment later, Dr. Wohlfahrt pursed his lips and he removed his stethoscope. "Your resting heart rate is much faster than normal." He scribbled across his notepad, then tore off the top page and passed it along to Benni. "Give this to Joachim, you're excused from morning training. Go back to your room and get some proper rest, then check back with me tomorrow morning." 

Gratefully, Benni stood up and tugged on his jacket. "See you tomorrow, doctor." 

As he twisted open the doorknob absentmindedly, he walked headlong into Mats, who was standing outside the office with a determined expression across his face.

"Benni?" He began tentatively. "Can we talk?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mario loves his sweets (almost as much as I do) ;)


	4. Bargaining

Instinctively, Benni shrank back in alarm, but Mats spotted the note in his hand and leaned forward to read it.

"Excused from practice? What's going on, Benni? Are you not feeling well? Also, can you please tell me why you've been avoiding me all this time?"

Gaping at him in disbelief, Benni found his voice at last. "Mats Hummels, don't you remember what happened four nights ago?"

"That's exactly what I wanted to ask to you about!" Mats exclaimed in earnest. "I can't for the life of me remember what I did that night, although I woke up the next morning in my own bed feeling pretty worn out. You gotta help me out, I'm serious!" He kneaded his temples in evident bewilderment.

Still looking dubious, Benni eyed him with suspicion. "Come find me after training. I'll be in my room."

*

Later that day, Mats took a quick shower after training, then changed out of his tracksuit in record time and rushed off to find Benni without grabbing lunch.

For some unfathomable reason, Dr. Wolhfahrt had singled him out for a urine sample during physical examination. He then spent the next half an hour gulping down orange juice and pacing back and forth in front of the washroom, before finally successfully producing a tiny cup of bodily fluid.

Meanwhile, Benni had been lying wide awake in bed, his thoughts racing at 200km per hour. _What did Mats mean when he said he couldn't remember what he did that night? Did he experience some sort of temporary amnesia? Is he just trying to avoid responsibility?_

What on earth is going on?

A soft knock on the door jolted Benni from his muddled thoughts. Leaping out of bed, he flung the door open, and motioned for them to step out into the hallway.

Mats looked relieved to see him. "Ah, Benni, you look much better now. Now, about that night..."

Looking off into the distance, Benni muttered: "If you really can't remember, then I'll refresh your memory. You tied me up and...raped me. Multiple times. Then you cut me all over with a knife." 

Ogling him as if he'd just announced he came from Mars, Mats shook his head vehemently. "Benni, you can't be serious. Both you and I know that's definitely not something I would do."

Benni bit his lips in frustration. "No, it's not like you at all. But the man who did all these terrible things to me that night was most definitely you. I...I couldn't understand why, but you mentioned something about me being Schalke's captain at the time."

...

_Schalke...?_

Something stirred dimly at the back of Mats' mind.

_Schalke._

It finally hit him. 

Snarling, Mats reached out and snatched up Benni's collar, pinning him against the corridor wall.

"That's right, Royal Blue motherfucker. I remember now. I fucked you and cut you up real bad, didn't I? Well, you haven't seen the worse of it yet."

Without another word, he slammed Benni's head against the wall with so much force the entire hallway seemed to tremble.

Benni slid to the floor in an untidy heap, groaning audibly. A small trickle of blood emerged from the corner of his forehead. He stirred feebly, then slumped against the wall, unconscious.

The door to Mats' right flew open, as Manuel, Thomas, and Mario stepped out and surveyed the scene before them in utter disbelief.

"Mats Hummels! Are you out of your mind?"


	5. Disclosure

It took all of Manuel and Thomas' strength to restrain the imposing 6'3 defender from going after Benni again, while Mario, after checking the pulse of the unconscious figure briefly, hurried downstairs to call for help.

Having been a former Schalke teammate of Benni's, Manuel was practically quaking with wrath. If it weren't for Thomas frantically shaking his head at him behind Mats' back, he surely would've given the Dortmunder a broken rib or two by now. The restrained figure struggled intermittently in their arms, but gradually subsided, while an expression of vague uncertainty unfurled across his features. 

The figures of Loew and Bierhoff appeared down the corridor, with a crew of white-clad medics behind them and Julian following hot at their heels. Conversing with Bierhoff tersely, Loew motioned for Benni to be lifted onto a stretcher.

"You - you goddamn monster!" As Julian caught sight of his battered captain, he pointed an accusatory finger at Mats, his face contorted in fury. "How could you do this to Benni? Do you have any idea how much shit he gets from Schalke fans for being close to the Dortmund captain? And this is how you repay him? By attacking him and giving him nightmares and panic attacks for days on end? Look how thin he's become!"

Dashing over to the stretcher, Julian lifted Benni's shirt up, then shrank back in horror at the mess of purple and yellow bruises and hideous half-formed scars framed by protruding rib cages. "Jesus Christ!"

A look of momentary confusion spread over Mats' face as he stared down at his handiwork from days ago. "Benni...I - attack him...what?" The next second, his look of confusion was replaced by one of realization and distress. "You're not saying...I - did that to Benni? I hurt him like that myself?"

Bierhoff scrutinized Mats with narrowed eyes, exchanging whispered words with Loew now and then. He stepped forward and cleared his throat loudly. "It seems that Hummels is not in the right state of mind. We need to wait for the results of his urine sample in order to conduct further testing. In the meantime," He gestured toward Manuel and Thomas on either side of Mats, "He will be kept in solitary confinement for the safety of everyone else. Come along, you two."

*

The atmosphere over dinner was subdued and extraordinarily uncomfortable. Dortmunders, led by Marco, Erik, and Roman Weidenfeller, unanimously defended their teammate, while Thomas, Manuel, and Julian denounced the Dortmund captain vehemently.

Halfway through dinner, Lukas received a frantic Skype call from Arsenal teammate Per Mertesacker, who was one of Benni's closest friends on the team prior to his retirement. As he listened to the account of events, the normally stoic and collected giant of a defender launched into a tirade. 

"Isn't it obvious what's happening?" Per's garbled yelling crackled with static over Lukas' phone. "Someone must have slipped Mats illegal drugs! No - not that kind of drugs, Thomas," He looked exasperated as Thomas mimed snorting cocaine. "The same thing happened to Hugo Lloris the last time we played against Hotspur, this usually laid-back goalkeeper began lashing out at Olivier (Giroud). and then we found out the Spurs' assistant coach had been injecting Lloris with illegal substances, so as not to have 'the Frenchies fraternizing with each other and ruining the North London derby'. The nerve of them!" He shook his head in disgust.

"But...Per," Erik stammered. "Isn't it normal for captains of the Revierderby to hate each other?"

Per appeared slighted flustered by the question. "No," He replied after a pause. "Because in case you haven't noticed, those two have been in love with each other for ages."

"HOWEVER-" Per had to raise his voice due to the uproar caused by this unexpected revelation, with Julian and Manuel's eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets. "Unlike Basti and this guy," Per jabbed his finger in Lukas' direction. "Benni and Mats also happen to be playing for rival teams, so all these years they've been keeping it a secret, none of that kissing for cameras stuff and whatnot. Well, not a secret anymore." He trailed off. "Um, keep me updated on how Benni is doing." The phone screen faded to black.

A stunned silenced followed, broken only when Mario spoke up timidly.

"Well, Marco," He squeaked. "Guess we don't have it so tough after all."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Per Mertesacker saves the day (or not). All the comic relief awards go to Mario :)
> 
> Cameos from Lloris and Giroud because they're such studs (Lloroud? I ship it).
> 
> Three more chapters to go! (Partial spoiler alert: Prepare for a big mushy finale because I can't stand sad endings)


	6. Remorse

In a sparsely-furnished room next to Dr. Wolhfarht’s office, Mats leaned his head against the window, staring out at the lights glimmering faintly in the evening and attempted to contain his racing thoughts.

_Benni…Benni said I raped him and gave him all those awful wounds that night. What the devil could have propelled me to go to those extremes? Why? Why did I hurt him like that? And why did I lose control again just now?_

Banging his head softly against the glass, Mats let out a moan of agitation. All he wanted to do at the moment was to rush to the hospital and stay by Benni’s side until he woke up. Instead, he had been subjected to a series of blood tests and psychological evaluations over the past few hours, and will have no chance to see his teammates, let alone Benni, until a proper diagnosis is found. 

The doorknob rattled as Dr. Wolhfarht entered with a sheaf of papers in his hands, with Loew and Bierhoff filing into the room behind him. Loew motioned for Mats to take a seat on the lone hard-backed chair in the room, while the others formed a semicircle around him.

Shuffling the papers until he found a complicated set of charts, Dr. Wolhfarht glanced at Loew and Bierhoff hesitantly. Before he could open his mouth, Mats leaned forward in anticipation. “Any news of Benni yet?”

Heaving a small sigh, the doctor held him with a pitying gaze. “He’s still out cold. We’re not sure how serious his injuries are at this point, but judging by his current state, it’ll be a concussion at the very least. We can only hope for no lasting damages” 

His heart sinking, Mats dropped his gaze to the floor. A knot began to form in his stomach.

Loew stepped forwards, furrowing his brows in consternation. “We need to focus on you now, Mats. The good news is, you passed all the psychological evaluations with flying colours. The bad news is, there appears to be a foreign stimulant in your bloodstream, which is very likely the substance that was responsible for your assaults on Benni. Can you recall any recent instances where you might’ve been injected or fed such a thing?”

Mats’ brain reeled in bewilderment. “You’re telling me…” he stammered. “That someone deliberately wanted me to go after Benni?” 

“It would seem so.” Loew nodded.

The knot in his stomach tightening, Mats took several deep breaths. “Yes…I received a flu shot from the Dortmund doctor on the orders of Juergen Klopp. This was a couple of weeks before my –" A lump formed in his throat. “My initial attack on Benni.”

Loew and Bierhoff exchanged meaningful looks, while Dr. Wolhfahrt’s frown deepened. “Stimulants like this are activated by certain keywords – in this case, phrases related to Schalke. As of now, you can either wait for the effects to wear off and avoid all possible contact with Benni and other Schalke players, or you can-“

Mats stood up abruptly, his hands balled into fists. “I don’t have time to wait, doctor. I’m willing to do whatever it takes to get the damn stuff out of my system as soon as possible.”

*

When Benni regained consciousness, he found himself propped up in a hospital bed with a thick layer of bandages around his head. Beside him, Julian slumped in his chair, evidently fast asleep.

A dull throbbing pounded steadily in his head, and he let out a soft groan as he adjusted the bandages gingerly. Julian jolted awake, rubbing his eyes as he caught sight of his captain smiling at him from the hospital bed.

“Benni’s awake!” Leaping up out of his chair, Julian tore out the room and bellowed down the hallway, his voice trembling with elation. Perhaps it was a trick of the light, but Benni thought he caught two shiny tracks down the cheeks of the younger boy.

Moments later, Manuel and Thomas jostled into the room, both babbling away excitedly. Behind Manuel, appeared the head of…

“Per? What are you-“

“BENNI!” The absurdly tall and gangly man pushed his way past Manuel and Thomas with ease, flinging himself at Benni with an exaggerated expression of jubilation. “I heard about what happened from Lukas and the others, and I had to fly over from London to check up on you. You’re okay now, Benni boy!” He turned to the others. “I can’t stay for very long, as there’s an Arsenal game tomorrow. Will you guys give me a minute?”

Giving Per the thumbs-up, Thomas began shoving the protesting Manuel out of the room. “Oh, don’t be a pain, Manu. You’ll have all the time in the world to talk to Benni tomorrow and so on…” His voice trailed down the hall.

Closing the door behind them, Per turned to Benni with an apologetic expression. “I’m sorry, Benni. I may or may not have told the team about you and Mats…”

Benni felt his expression harden. “How did you figure it out? And where’s that son of a bitch now?”

“You two weren’t doing a very good job at being discreet, to be honest.” Per chuckled lightly. “They found traces of stimulants in Mats’ system that might’ve been given to him in secret by the Dortmund coach. I know it’s hard, but try not to blame him too much. It’s obvious he cares for you a lot, Benni. I’m your best friend on the national team, so I would know.”

Benni swallowed, tracing a finger over the scars and bruises beneath his hospital gown. “I – I don’t know if I’m ready to forgive him yet. These things can’t exactly be forgotten in a day or two.” He stared off into the distance. “You know…all these years I’ve been living in fear, fear of Schalke and Dortmund fans coming after us and the media tearing us apart. But none of that can ever compare to what happened between Mats and I that night. Losing him like that was…unbearable, and I don’t know if I can handle living in constant fear of him morphing into the stuff of my nightmares without warning…”

His voice broke off, as he turned away with reddened eyes. 

Per patted his arm reassuringly. “They'll find a way to cure him, Benni. I know they will.”


	7. Reprieve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Weird and slightly graphic chapter with a slice of Goetzeus. 
> 
> Happy belated birthday to Mats :)

Crouching miserably over a basin on the floor, Mats hurled his stomach's contents into its depths. First came the previous day's meals from his digestive tract, and after those were emptied, only foul-tasting bile and slivers of blood spurted periodically from his lips.

He had been warned by the doctor that receiving a large dosage of the antidote could possibly lead to severe side effects. Little did he know that the next few hours would be spent shivering from a high-grade fever to the point of hallucinating, with accompanying bouts of nausea and dizziness that threatened to invert his line of vision.

In his delirium, he saw Benni's hazel eyes, full of laughter, blinking at him from afar, felt the brush of his thin lips again the nape of his neck, followed by unmistakable screams of agony that grew louder and louder-

"No!" Clapping his hands over his ears and shaking his head furiously, Mats staggered over to the nearest wall and slammed his fists against its surface in agitation. "Benni! I'm so sorry-please, it's all my fault! Stop! Make it stop-" His strangled yell caught in his throat as he choked up another clout of blood-tainted bile.

It all came back to him now, the images flashing erratically through his mind: Benni's crimson blood gushing forth from the tip of the blade, the terror and anguish in his eyes as he writhed and struggled against his bonds, his mangled form, no longer able to endure the savage bouts of torment, gradually growing limp in Mats' arms. 

_It's my fault, all my fault. I put Benni through absolute hell, and now I have hell to pay._

Then, as quickly as it came, the nausea subsided, and Mats found himself slumped against the wall with a layer sweat coating his forehead and torso. Exhausted, he whipped off his t-shirt, stumbled to the narrow examination bed, and slipped into an deep slumber.

*

Mats awoke with an intravenous needle stuck in his hand and a thick blanket draped over him. Blinking in the dim fluorescent light, he caught a flash of platinum blond hair and muffled traces of Justin Bieber. Wincing slightly, he croaked: "Marco? Is that you?"

"Hello, sleeping beauty." Grinning widely, Marco took off his headphones and lowered himself into a chair at the foot of the bed. "Except you look like shit right now. I wish I had a mirror or something."

Despite the heavy fatigue weighing down his body, Mats chortled appreciatively. Leave it to Marco to cheer him up in times like this. "How was the game against Spain?"

"Eh, we won 1-0." Marco shrugged nonchalantly. "But we definitely could have done better if you and Benni were playing. Now, don't feel bad or anything, but this happened while you were out of it." Tossing a sheet of newspaper at Mats, he pointed to the front page. The headline read: _Disgraced Borussia Dortmund coach dismissed for poor domestic league results._

Mats grimaced. "Good riddance. One way or another, he had to go. By the way, did the doctor mention anything about Benni?"

Pulling a face, Marco clicked his tongue in bemusement. "Of course you would. He's doing alright, grade III concussion and some external injuries, but nothing too serious." He shook his head incredulously. "I still can't get over the fact that you two have been an item all this time. Who do you think you are, the Romeo and Juliet of the Revierderby or something? Count yourself lucky that the team have sworn themselves to secrecy. Not that I'll ever stop pulling your leg for it." He added quickly.

Heaving a small sigh, Mats turned to face the wall, mumbling inaudibly: "I doubt if he'll ever want to see me again after all this. I mean, I don't even know if I can live with myself anymore."

Snorting in derision, Marco replied: "Mats Hummels, do you think you're the only one to go through something like this? Do you have any idea how I felt when Mario left for Bayern? Half of me wanted to follow him to Munich immediately, while the other half wanted to pummel him until he agreed to come back. I'm not one to brood, but I'll admit I was depressed for weeks. " His voice grew softer. "Sunny was the best thing about Dortmund, hands down. When he left, my life felt almost pointless. But eventually, he came to me and apologized. What could I do? I love the little guy too much not to forgive him. And I'll bet a good amount money that Benni cares for you as much as I care for Sunny. If you try hard enough, he will come back to you. After all, you two have made it this far, this should be just another hurdle in the road."

Mats lay quietly as he absorbed the information. Never before had he heard Marco express his sentiments about Mario so candidly. A reluctant smile slowly spread across his lips.

"Thanks for that, Marco. I think I've figured out what I need to do now."


	8. Lust

Benni awoke with a start, staring around in bewilderment until he perceived a soft _tap-tap-tap_ on the door. His book had fallen to the floor, and his half-finished glass of mulled wine balanced precariously on the handle of the loveseat. Standing up and immediately stumbling from his numb legs, he called out: "Who is it?" towards the darkness of the front porch.

"It's me, Mats."

He froze.

Now the urge of Benni's legs to buckle under him became overpowering. The knocking came again, a little more urgent this time. "Benni...please let me in. It's okay. They got rid of that stuff in me days ago...Benni, please?" His voice wavered on the last word.

Closing his eyes and forcing himself to take several deep breaths, Benni recited in his head: _It's okay. The Mats that hurt you is long gone. That was not him. The one you know is talking to you now..._

So why not let him in?

Shuffling towards the front door, Benni unlatched the lock with a resounding click. He paused, then turned and walked back to the living room, resuming his spot on the loveseat.

The door creaked as Mats poked his head in tentatively. "Hi, Benedikt," he murmured, then realized how ridiculous he sounded. "I wanted to stop by and see how you were doing, and, ah, clear a few things up."

The flaxen-haired man raised his head slightly at the mention of his full name, but still did not turn around. Making an indistinct noise in his throat, Benni beckoned for Mats to sit next to him half-heartedly, which was all the encouragement the latter needed.

As he sank into the cushion of the loveseat, he felt the man next to him stiffen. Benni looked much healthier than the last time they met: the shadows beneath his eyes were gone, and his cheeks had filled out somewhat. Hesitantly, he reached out a hand and laid it on Benni's shoulder, felt the muscles and sinews tense up beneath layers of fabric.

"Benni...I wanted to apologize. For all the pain I've caused you. I can blame whatever it is Klopp injected into me, but I know that wouldn't make you feel any better. The things that happened can't be changed, but I promise I will make every effort to amend things between us. So please..." Mats' voice trailed off as Benni shrugged off his hand brusquely and edged away from him. "Please, Benni. Come back to me."

The silence that fell between them seemed deafening to Mats, but Benni spoke up a few seconds later. "I decided to forgive you awhile ago, Mats. But that doesn't mean I'm not carrying the scars around. Here-" He lifted up his sweater and t-shirt, indicating the grotesque criss-crosses on his torso. "And here." He pointed a finger at his temple.

His chest contracting at the sight of Benni's wounds, Mats opened his mouth soundlessly and floundered for words. 

_How do you erase scars from the mind?_

Impulsively, Mats slid to the carpet at Benni's feet, leaning in between his knees as he lifted the layers of his clothing, and touched his lips to the gashes across Benni's pale torso.

Gently, he brushed his lips against each scar he could find, lingering over every inch of skin, moving upwards from Benni's hip bones across his flat abdomen until he reached his rib cage. With his free hand, he pushed Benni's sweater up and over his head, keeping his lips glued to his skin. An almost imperceptible whimper issued from Benni as Mats' lips grazed his collarbone. Placing his hand tenderly beneath Benni's jaw, Mats tilted his face towards him and kissed those familiar freckled cheeks, tasting salty tears on the tip of his tongue. 

And then all boundaries melted away, along with the heartache and pain of the previous days. They found themselves staggering into Benni's room with their lips hungry for each other, clutching and tugging at the remaining layers of fabric on each other's body in a frenzy, which soon lay discarded on the floor. The taste of Benni exploded in Mats' mouth as he swirled his tongue around his cock, his fingers caressing the small of his back, the feverish moans of the man before him a hymn to his ears. 

Benni reached climax with a small cry, sinking back against the covers, his watery hazel eyes fixed listlessly on Mats. Wiping the translucent fluid from his mouth, Mats reached down for his own cock and smeared it over the tip with a smooth motion, as Benni shrank back in fright.

"I promise, tonight I will do you no harm."

The heat from their bodies welded into one as Mats entered Benni from behind with his face buried in his neck, with the latter panting heavily from a mixture of pleasure and discomfort, stifling his throaty moans with one hand over his mouth. With each rhythmic thrust, Benni's moans and gasps became more frantic, his head tilting back rapturously, his fingers wrapped tightly around Mat's dark curls and his sculpted waist. Greedily, Mats left a trail of love bites from the nape of Benni's neck to his collarbones, licking the sweat drops from his skin with relish. His fingers found their way to Benni's mouth, with the latter sucking and lapping at them as if his life depended on it, engulfing them in warmth.

A strangled sound escaped from Benni as Mats buried his length in him with another push, his fingers digging into his hips. Wrapping his tongue around his earlobe, Mats whispered huskily: "I'm going to come."

Moments later, as his insides filled to the brim with hot liquid, Benni pressed his hand to Mats' chin, stifling his breathless gasps with his lips.

Sometime in the night, they drifted off to sleep in utter exhaustion, limbs entangled, bodies pressed together.

" _And we're caught up in the crossfire of Heaven and Hell_  
 _And we're searching for shelter_

_Lay your body down_  
 _Next to mine"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing steamy scenes will be the death of me.
> 
> For some reason, I keep dragging the chapters on, but next chapter will finally wrap things up!


End file.
